All That Is Left
by mealz
Summary: An AU with slight canon crossover, this story starts just after the end of season 5. It begins with Spike's reaction to Buffy's death. Spuffy.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **A short chapter just to set the scene, it's set in the aftermath of season 5 and Buffy's death but before series 6 starts up. I intend for this story to be an AU with some canon crossover but hopefully very minimal. Just enough to give some relatability. Hope you like :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of The Buffy The Vampire Slayer characters.

I gave away my soul a long time ago, so why do I still feel like this? Why is there an empty, raw wound in my chest that itches and bleeds for a girl who never thought much of me? Never trusted me fully, never even liked me.

I close my eyes and conjure her image to mind. A tumble of golden locks that frame a delicate face, with delicate features and completed by her soulful green eyes. Smart really. Housing all that strength in such a pretty shell, throws most people..._threw_ most people. Gave her the upper hand, cuz' of course enemies underestimated her. Not me though. Had enough experience with slayers to know they're anything but weak. Mind you, she _was_ different. She was...she was Buffy. Funny, bright, warm, strong. Gone. Dead. Cold.

My eyes snap open, the image of her had changed into another, one that haunts me in my dreams, asking me every night why I didn't save her, mocking my weakness. Her body is broken and bleeding, her skin is pale but with a bluish hue. She is dead. Buried six feet beneath the earth and with her went my heart, my everything. I've retreated into the downstairs of my comfy crypt. I shun humanity and its constant reminders of my loss. I don't want to _feel_ anymore, please let it stop. Just let me be numb.

xxxxx

I mull over an idea. I could go out, attack, and attempt to hurt humans. It would hurt like pissing hell but it would be a different kind of hurt at least.

I hear her in my mind; "Spike, has all that peroxide finally seeped into your brain? I'm surprised it managed to get there, thought it would be swishing about in the emptiness." She was always fond of the quips.

Nah, she'd never go for it.

xxxxx

It's been 8 days and 13 hours since she...since she went away. It still feels fresh. I'll need to go out soon; I'm running out of animal blood. I stalk through my cavern...chamber, whatever you want to call it and as I do I start to unravel. Bloody hell, I've really gone to pot ain't I? I'm a flipping mess! Who would have thought it eh? William the Bloody reduced to a blubbering wreck over a woman, a slayer no less! I used to be feared, known thoughout the world for warrior prowess. I've killed more people than I can count, tortured more than that. I used to cause the suffering, now it consumes it doesn't make it go away though. I need a drink.

xxxxx

So many empty bottles and so little effect. I count every minute that passes and regret that it's not one which she gets to live. Yet time passes in a blur, melting together into one big block and I start to lose track of everything. Everything except how long it has been since she was taken from me.

xxxxx

Someone's knocking on my door. I still and listen for a clue to the knocker's identity. There is breathing, so not a vamp. I sniff the air and catch the scent of bubblegum, all sickly sweet. It's Little Bit then. I'm on the verge of turning her away when I remember she's grieving too. I open the door to an almost woman, she seems to have aged in such a short space of time. Her large eyes are still rimmed red from recent crying. Dawn steps into me without a moment's hesitation and I let her cry until she hasn't got any tears left to shed. I'm past crying, it won't change anything, it won't bring her back.

After she's done crying we just hang out, watching TV, playing stupid games. She's a hellion at Cluedo. "Dawn?" I ask eventually.

"Yahuh?"

"Why are you here?" She looks a tad offended at this so I try to elaborate; "I mean why aren't you shacked up with the Scoobies singing Comb By Ya and getting all touchy feely about your emotions?" A cloud passes over her face. "They're great but...they're keeping stuff from me, I can feel it. They treat me like a child Spike, more than ever now. It's like they won't let me be alone! It just, it makes things feel worse somehow, I don't even know how that's possible." I shrug to let her know I won't question it further but then she whispers: "Besides, you loved her Spike. You have to understand what I feel. Not that they don't but they try to put a brave face on it all and I just want it to feel honest y'know? I want to grieve." Then it hits me, this little girl is in as much pain as I am and Buffy would hate that. I don't feel too cheery about it myself, the Little Bit is kind of important to me. She needs me; it's time for me to stop being selfish and start looking out for the one person there is left that I care about. After all it's what Buffy would've wanted. "Stick with me pet, we're gonna go far." We share a small smile, no depth, but a flicker of what could be, for her at least.

**AN: **What with me being an amatuer and all impatient to get started I've noticed a couple of things I wanted to rectify in this chapter, but now I will stop messing with it and just hope that you'll forgive me any other mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So just a few things. In my Buffy universe, there was never a Buffybot. So Spike never had a Buffy shaped sex toy. I hope this isn't too big a let down for anyone ;) hope you enjoy chapter 2!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer characters.

"So...if X equals...25...then A must be...?" Dawn's eyes slide slowly towards me and her face takes on many of the same qualities as a begging pup. I roll my eyes and repeat the mantra I've been spouting for the last hour; "I've taught you the formula, now just apply it to the questions. I'm not going to just _give_ you the answers."

"But it would be _soooo_ much quicker!"

"It would also be _soooo _cheating." I throw her a glance over the top my book, she's pouting, she looks just like Buffy when she pouts.

Oh crap.

There goes my whole 'avoid thinking of her and avoid the pain' plan. That's obviously not going to work out, what with the Little Bit having practically moved into my crypt. Not that I mind, it's nice to have the company, but it's probably not healthy for her that I'm _her_ company. I've tried talking to her of course, tried convincing her to spend some time with people her own age, have some fun.

"_But you're fun Spike! I like hanging here. Unless you don't want me around?" Dawn's face falls slightly but she tries to make it passive, as if she doesn't care. Bloody Summers women, they all know just how to play me. "Nah course I do Bit." She nods, satisfied and we return to watching' Beauty and the Beast'._

If Angelus could see me now...the old soulless Angelus I mean, not the new wussy king of foreheads. He really should rent out all that space; it's just going to waste supporting his ridiculous mountain of a hair style. He'd beat me senseless. I wouldn't care though, this is for her, it's all for bloomin' her.

I sigh and slide my finger in between the pages of my book to hold my place temporarily. I crouch down on the rug next to Dawn and start explaining the formula again. It takes me a minute to realise she's not listening to me. "Spike?" she says. "Thank you." She gives me that look; the one Buffy gave me when she wanted me to stop messing around. It means 'This is serious, so pay attention'.

"It's ok. Look this is where you're going wrong..."

xxxxx

The thing about a Slayer dying is this; unless the next one called, or in our case the last one called: Faith, decides to haul their bum cheeks on up to our Hellmouth, it's going to get pretty damn evil around here. Which is bad, I'm not keen on all this competition. Although it means there are more opportunities for me to beat the living shit out of something, it also means this town is getting harder to defend. We've tried to keep Buffy's death quiet, but that's damn near impossible. If they don't know she's dead then they realise she's gone, no matter how many stories of her triumphant victories I spread through the demonic grape vine. All in all, let's face it, even with me helping; the Scoobies just can't handle this increase in business. Which means; the monsters are multiplying.

Which is why I'm heading to one of the weekly meetings now held at the Summers household. Don't get me wrong, me and Harris won't be braiding each other's hair anytime soon, but they all recognise that I'm the only one of them with strength anything like the Slayer's. Whereas I recognise that these are the people Buffy loved and so I have to play nice and make sure none of them kill themselves by accident. No seriously, Harris fell over the other day, damn near impaled himself on a stake Red had left lying around.

I stop outside the house, remembering. God the entire place reeks of her. No, not reeks, that implies that it's a bad smell, and although it's painful it's still the best fucking thing I've ever smelt. I inhale it deeply, letting myself forget that when I walk through that door she won't be there.

I let myself in and am greeted by silence. Red, Tara, Anya and Harris are sitting in the living room. They all have this look on their face, a look that makes me wish I hadn't been so involved in the smell of my dead Slayer and had paid more attention to what they'd been talking about. Whatever, not my problem, they can whisper about whatever they like, it's not like anything matters anymore. "Can we get a move on? I've got plans. Can't babysit you lot all night." Harris snorts when I say this.

"Yeah right, because your social life is so hectic at the moment? Let me guess. You and your girlfriends are going shopping for new coffins?" I just ignore him and flop down on the sofa next to Tara. She throws me a small smile and I nod my hello back. Always liked Tara, she treats me like a person. The others just treat me as a weapon, a weapon they're not too sure they know how to control.

Red starts the meeting off and we're all assigned areas to patrol. They stick to their pairs and head off to patrol the Bronze and the general town. I get the cemetery, as usual. I call up to Dawn before I leave. "Little Bit, if I'm back early enough, how about we go for ice cream?" She runs to the top of the staircase and chirps; "Yes please!"

"Only if you've done your homework mind." She pouts, but heads off to her room to get it done. This is what I have now, a task set to me by people who are neither my friends nor my enemies and the practical guardianship of a teenage girl, complete with all the mood swings and emotions that come with the territory. Got to say not what I imagined when I was slaughtering people all over the world as one of Scourge of Europe.

xxxxx

"They're acting all weird again." I don't think I'll ever finish this book.

"Who's acting weird Dawn?"

"Willow, Xander, Tara and Anya! It's like the minute Giles flew off to England they started to get all...secretive. They keep going quiet whenever I walk in the room." She goes quiet but I can tell she wants to say something more. I just raise an eyebrow at her, it's all it takes, she obviously needs to get this off her chest. "What if...what if they decide to send me away? To...live with my Dad I mean. I don't want to go. You guys are my family; you're all I have now." I hadn't thought about this. There is no way I am letting them ship her off to that deadbeat dad of hers. Buffy would have wanted her here with her friends, with her _family_. Looks like I'm actually going to have to engage in a conversation with that sad lot. "Look Dawn, if that's not what you want, then it won't happen. You don't even know if that's the case." I hate to admit it but it's at times like these when I wish the Watcher hadn't done one. I get why he scarpered so fast though. He couldn't face it; the guilt of losing his Slayer. It's harder to handle it when faced with everything she once was, had or loved staring you in the face. Still, it wasn't fair to leave everyone else to pick up the pieces; I don't have any insight into that group, so how am I meant to comfort the Bit? Least Giles would have been the father figure, which would leave me to be the friend. Didn't pan out that way though, so I best just bloody well try. "I'll talk to them, don't you worry."

xxxxx

"We don't know what you're talking about Spike." Harris puffs out his chest and tries to look me in the eye. Willow on the other hand looks nervy and Tara is looking anywhere but at me. They're not going to budge though. "Right then. Keep old Spike clueless and maybe he won't mess it up? That the sort of thing you're thinking? Well I'm telling you if it's something involving Dawn then you can just bloody-"

"W-what are you talking about? Dawnie?" The look of absolute confusion on Red's face calms me down.

"Fine, I'm done, but whatever you're up to, stop it. Dawn's getting worried." This shuts them up and I take the opportunity to leave.

I linger outside, waiting to hear something useful. "-has to be tonight. What if he finds out and stops us? We can't take that risk." It's Willow, sounding more commanding than I've ever heard her. When the hell did the mouse get some bollocks? There's a general agreement to this statement and then they all leave to 'prepare'. I think I'll keep a close an eye on the Slayerettes tonight.

xxxxx

"You're leaving me?"

"Don't whine Dawn. Look I told you, stay downstairs. I'm going to lock you in, you'll be safe there. I just need to take care of something real quick and then we can do anything you like."

"Will you tell me stories? About your life...or umm unlife?"

I agree, making a mental note to tell her only the very tamest and head out. I start to head for the house but then I catch Red's scent. They're here, in the cemetery? Why? I track the scent but before I reach them a loud noise distracts me. Fuck. Demons. Looks like the Hellmouth's having itself a party! Within seconds I'm surrounded. It's a horde and a violent one at that. They're on motorcycles and I can see more than one has a human slung across the back. Some dead and some barely conscious, all severely battered. One body is headless; another has had its intestines ripped out via the throat. After the kind of life I've lived it isn't hard for me to imagine why they're keeping them and it disgusts me. I think of Dawn vulnerable in my crypt. Shit, why did I leave her alone? My eyes assess the situation and it doesn't look good. There are at least 12 of them and no exit, not without them chasing me down. They all have pale, scarred skin, sharp teeth and hands with steel knives poking out in between their knuckles. Not liking the thought of getting to close to those. The biggest of the pack steps forward, he has a serious case of the male pattern baldness. "So you're him. Heard you're the Slayer's bitch now? I'd ask how that's working out but it's obvious. I mean, she's run off somewhere and left you right? Well how about we try and cheer you up? Have some fun?" He leers at me and I want to smack the sneer right off his ugly face.

"Yeah, I'd be up for that." I grin and then quick as a flash I'm in vamp mode. My skin ridges and I can feel the demon inside of me hunger for the violence. I'm about to make my move when there's a huge flash of light. I can feel the energy that ripples from it. Oh god, Red what are you doing? It feels like dark power, the kind that can destroy. As if called by a like-minded ally most of the demons head off to find the source. Only big, bald and ugly stays behind. "I'm going to enjoy killing you." I say, and then I pounce. We struggle, he's strong but he's not bright and not that fast either. I dodge his grabs for my throat and swiftly land some kicks to his stomach. I manage to sweep his legs from beneath him and I twist his hands so I can use his own knuckle knives to slit his throat. "Heh. Dumb piece of sh-"I hear a noise, a twig crunching and I swivel to face my new enemy.

Oh. God.

It's a dream, it...no, I'm imagining her. I must be going crazy, I'm hallucinating. I know I'm going bonkers, because standing before me is Buffy. My Buffy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, my laptop is back ****woo! So this is the chapter where you'll get to see how I'm starting to make my changes. I hope you like! I'm going to keep up with this split view point thing I think. But I think it will only be a Buffy/ Spike thing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer Characters.**

**Buffy**

Oh. My. God. Where am I? It's so dark and it smells damp. I can't see anything, why can't I see? I stretch my hands out and feel around. Immediately all the air leaves my lungs. I'm closed in, completely boxed. I push at the walls, testing their strength but they're solid. My heart is racing and I can't think. There's no air getting to my brain. Air! I'm going to run out of air! As though my lungs know this, they begin sucking in as much as they can. I'm having a panic attack. Oh god, I need to get out. I scream and thump on the walls above me. I wish I could stand up, oh where the hell am I? Hell? Maybe. "GAAAAHHH!" I send a punch upwards, I punch and scrape until the wall starts to crack. I make a hole but instead of the sliver of light I expect to see I get a face full of earth. I'm underground? How deep? What if I'm too far from the surface to make it out? But I need _out_! Oh! "SOMEONE PLEASE LET ME OUT! P...please...just...anyone! Please!" I'm sobbing now but there's something inside me, some instinct that tells me to push through. So I do. I claw away until there's a hole my size, there's dirt everywhere, in my eyes, mouth, nose and my clothes. Have...to...keep...going. Can't...stay in...that place! I push and push. So tired. Just want to stop but I can't. Still so dark, I can barely breathe. Keep going. It feels like I've been working at it for hours, but I'd be dead if that were true. The world is crushing me, what did I do to deserve this? It's so hard to mo-

My hand claws free of the earth, I can feel the breeze. Faster, I have to get out, must dig faster. Then I 'm free, there's the wind, there's not much light but I can see better than before. My eyes are dim, like I've not switched them up to full power mode. Now that I think about it my limbs feel heavy and stiff. Like they've been out of use. I've managed to haul myself out of the ground and I crawl away from my prison. I need to be away from it more than anything else. I collapse and breathe in great big gasps of air. After a minute or two I turn to face the scene of my escape. What I see there is all at once the most alien and familiar sensation I have ever experienced. I've crawled out of a grave. I was in a _coffin_. I clawed my way out of a _coffin_. My throat constricts and my lungs are denied all that precious air they'd been revelling in mere moments ago. I suppose it must be my grave but I can't make out the lettering on the headstone; my eyes are still all...unfocusy. What happened to me? How did I end up buried 6 foot beneath the ground? I turn to look at the headstone more closely, hoping for a clue and it's then, as I'm running a hand over the letters, that I realise something; I don't recognise the name on the headstone. More worryingly I don't know what I _would_ recognise because I don't have a clue _who_ I am.

Here comes another panic attack.

xxxxx

I have to get away from it. The gra...my grave I mean. But first I make sure I memorise the name on it. It might just be my only link to finding out who I am. Buffy Anne Summers. I expect it to feel familiar but it doesn't register in my mind as anything other than a stranger's name. I want to stop moving, sit down and cry until something in this world makes sense to me. I've got a feeling that would be a huge waste of my time. So I stumble blindly forward, trying to take notice of what I'm seeing around me through the tears and my already impaired vision. I'm in a cemetery, that's clear. Something about this place feels...wrong. Like...right here, right now, the world is off kilter. I wonder back to my previous thought, is this hell? It sure feels like it.

I've managed to limp a little further but the sight that greets me makes me vomit. Bodies. Dead, empty shells of people, mutilated beyond recognition. They've been defiled to the limit. My sobs harden and I fall to the ground in shock and horror at the scene. I try to back away but I back right into a tombstone. I'm surrounded by everything I fear the most, my prison reproduced as far as I can see. This admittedly, isn't far, but still. I can smell the destruction and decay. It seeps inside of my skull and makes my body rock with tremors. The tears are coming thick and fast now.

This place, it's...it's evil. Have to get away. I get stiffly to my feet and try my best to run. I try to ignore the half naked girl who's missing an arm and the old man whose throat has been torn out, his eyes still open, staring at me as I pass. Some of the bodies are worse. They're rotting away; the smell is so over powering that I'm forced to cover my nose and mouth. They've been dug up from their resting places, disturbed and then desecrated. It's too much. I run and run, but I can't escape the images. They're burned into my memory with perfect clarity; I have to stop twice more to throw up. It's all pure stomach acid though; doubt I've eaten for a while. Not sure I'm going to want to ever again.

While I'm doubled over I notice the track marks on the ground. They don't make any sense to me though so I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and move on. Still I think it's best to move away from the tracks, rather than follow them to a conclusion I may find...bloody. I decide to examine myself, make sure there isn't anything wrong with me. I seem physically fine, apart from a few scratches, bruises and my hands which are so battered my knuckles are bleeding. I think I can see bone. I'll live though, so it seems. I'm wearing a classy, if somewhat conservative black dress and strappy black heeled sandals. I decide I would do better without these and so toss them away from me; they were slowing me down and sinking into the grass. I'm filthy of course, but otherwise I'm...not good, not even fine, but I'm alive. My natural instinct is to keep on the move and so I end up following a trail. A trail of destruction that seems so endless it really seems to enforce my 'I'm in Hell' theory. I hug myself, trying to hold myself together, literally. It isn't working. I just, don't know what to do. If I knew where to go...or who to call...but I don't. I don't know anything! All I can see is violence, dead things everywhere. Blood, viscera, limbs that have been torn from their natural home. That's how I feel, out of place, a limb lost from its socket.

Voices? I can hear them, not far away. I listen harder and manage to make out two distinctly male voices, they seem to be arguing. One has the rough, gravelly tone of a chain smoker. He sounds old and cruel. He also has sort of a raspy voice, it makes me think he probably spits when he speaks. The other voice is a vast opposite. It's smooth and low and...English? There is a lyrical quality to this voice, he practically sings. It's beautiful but there is an underlying terribleness to this beauty. It's cold and sharp; I imagine it could cut a person to shreds if that were the aim. Nevertheless I am drawn to its source, my curiosity unable to resist this strange meeting of men. After all they are the first other living beings that I have come across. I'm not stupid though, I know that doesn't mean they will be friendly.

Quietly I creep closer to the sounds; the voices have stopped now and have been replaced with grunts and the soft sound of flesh hitting flesh. Then there's a cry, a guttural noise that seeps straight from the belly. I see them now, through the foliage. A man and a...a...oh God what is he? Some sort of monster? My stomach lurches in fear as I gaze upon the defeated party. I assume he was defeated, I mean that cut throat is probably more than a scratch. He's hideous, kind of man shaped but with added extras you certainly wouldn't find in your Happy Meal. I tear my eyes away from the abomination on the ground to assess the other one. My breath catches in my throat. This man is the complete polar opposite of the one on the ground but just as terrifying. That kind of beauty should be illegal. Tall, lean and muscular, with cheekbones you could slice cheese on! He has the palest skin and equally pale hair to match. It looks like he's tried to tame it, but small curls are springing up unbidden to form a halo of pale gold. The whole look is offset by his clothes, complete black. No matter how beautiful though I can feel the power he has. It's dangerous and deadly. If I needed any proof of that I only had to cast my gaze downwards to the monster sprawled at his feet. I can feel in my gut that this man is more than he appears; that it would be much safer for me to run and get as far away as possible from this killer. Something holds me in place. I'm not quite sure what, maybe the look on his face or the way he holds himself. It's like he's putting on a show of being together and in control, but inside he's broken. It makes me want to know who broke him. His eyes are so sad, I wonder...Against all my instincts I feel myself rising out of my crouch. I can't believe what I'm doing, trying to get myself put back in the place I just fought my way out of it seems. Still, any fear I felt melted at the sight of his face...so vulnerable. I bet he'd take offence at that, he looks the type to be full of pride. I just want to get a closer look then I'll go. There's no harm in that as long as he doesn't...CRUNCH...see me. Oops. The man swivels to face me his eyes going wide as they see me. Gosh, they're so blue. I stare. He stares. It's like the whole world has been working towards this one moment and then...I come to my senses. What am I doing? All that death and destruction I just witnessed? Yeah, chances are this guy caused it, I mean he took out that huge...whatever it was pretty damn easy. He's strong and dangerous and I need to get the hell out of here. So I do what seems to be my calling in life. I turn on my bare heels and run for my life, as hard and fast as I can. Not before I catch the look of utter bewilderment on that chiselled face though. He's surprised?


	4. Chapter 4

Spike

She's gone before I can find my voice. For a dead girl she's pretty spry. My head feels as though it has been hit with a sledgehammer. Did I really just see her or have I stooped to creating hallucinations now? I know which way I'm leaning. I'm not actually leaning though because I can't move. I'm frozen in place staring at the spot in which her ghost stood briefly. It's a good thing I don't need to breathe because I would have suffocated a while back. It strikes me that I might try and follow this apparition. Even if it leads me nowhere, for a brief time I will exist in hope. Before I can act on this impulse I am tackled to the ground by a stray demon. For a second I'm winded and still in shock, then I'm up and circling the piece of shit deciding what is the best way to end its pathetic life. The recess of my brain tells me it's a Lilliad demon, no doubt looking for child bones. It makes no difference to its fate but I like to know my enemy. The Hellmouth really is leaking scum tonight. This demon is slow though; I'm starting to wonder whether he attacked me or fell on me by accident. It doesn't take me long to tear his head from his shoulders. I have more pressing matters to attend to. Alone, my mind goes into overdrive as I try to make sense of tonight's bizarre happenings. I come to one conclusion: Willow. This whole mess stinks of magic and it makes sense she is the culprit. Yes, that 'thing' I saw, I won't name her because she can't be real, it must have been some shade conjured by the witch to scare off the demons. A shadow of the slayer to keep her image and her legacy alive, if not her true self. Unfortunately I've lost Red's scent, it's too buried in the death and decay of the turned over cemetery. I decide to head to the house first. While I weave my way through the desecrated graves and smashed headstones, I mull over what I have seen. It was a cruel thing to dangle her in front of my face like that. What the hell do they think they're doing? I'm angry and I want answers, I've been too on the sidelines of late. That won't be happening again, it's time I was in control. When I arrive at the house I can hear them arguing inside, what they say doesn't clear any of this up for me though. "We must have made a mistake."

"I told you we shouldn't be messing with dark magic!"

"What choice did we have?"

"Thank God we never told Dawn!"

"SHUT UP! I need to think." Willow's voice breaks through the din and the rest quiet down. Since when did she become the boss? No, no, no Red. I'm in charge now. I enter quietly and wait for them to notice. It's Tara who spots me first. "Spike!" she squeaks. Now I have their attention. Willow has visibly paled and the rest are sharing furtive glances. "You got something you want to tell me?" I enquire. My voice is controlled but they can all feel the anger rolling off of me in waves. "What do you mean?" asks Willow, the picture of innocence. I don't say anything, only train my eyes are her face. She is visibly uncomfortable and this pleases me. "Look it's a long story" she pleads.

"Now" I command. Then it all comes spilling out.

"Sunnydale is falling apart! We can't carry on like this. We need a protector, we need a fighter, we need a slayer! Dawn needs a real family or else she'll be taken away from us. We need Buffy!" Willow rushes this all out without a single pause and I'm still confused and I say as much. Willow continues: "We...I did a spell. But it didn't even work!" she adds hastily.

"What did you do, spell it out for me for God's sake!" I practically shout I'm so frustrated. Willow takes a deep breath and says: "I cast a spell to bring Buffy back from the dead. To make her live again."

"But it didn't work!" Xander cuts in. I'm silent for a while, it makes them uneasy. They're waiting for me to react only they don't know how that will be. They certainly don't expect what I say next: "It did work. I saw her. Buffy's alive."


End file.
